


Small Beginnings

by carminnat



Category: Uncharted (Video Games), Uncharted 4 - Fandom
Genre: Baby Drakes, F/M, Sorry Not Sorry, Teen Romance, Teen Sam, Teenage Rebellion, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 12:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7574287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carminnat/pseuds/carminnat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Morgan has always been more than meets the eye, but you are perhaps one of the two people in the world who knows when he's hiding something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Beginnings

Sam Morgan is perhaps the embodiment of what the songs on the radio are about: troublesome boy, dark-haired, pretty-eyed, complete with denim and a motorbike. The kind that would make you pretend to be unfazed by his presence, but nevertheless intrigued. 

Then he turned out to be a mirrored image of yourself: orphaned street kid with a knack for delinquency. It was what encouraged a bond between the two of you to form, because according to him, “It wouldn’t hurt to have a partner in the business.” Nights of odd jobs became days spent outside orphanage walls. Partnership became friendship. 

Soon, he is much more than the poster child bad boy. He’s your best friend. Your partner in crime — literally.

But months into getting to know him and thieving with him led to a job pointed south. You were both screwed right then and there, because it wasn’t the first time either of you were caught. Before, it wasn’t “three strikes, you’re out”; it was “do it again, and you’re out of here.” Sure enough, Sam was kicked out of Saint Francis’s, and you were kicked out of Saint Lucy’s.

You recall his words to you that night in the police station. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here with you every step of the way, all right? I promise.”

You had mustered up a soft smile, lacing your fingers through his, and you replied, “Same to you, chief.”

Afterward, Sam and you opted for a more cautious approach to thieving while maintaining a clean slate with both your “normal” jobs. Once a month tips from local contacts who fortunately still entrusted the two of you even after getting your asses busted. 

But strangely, Sam has rejected the last couple of tips you’ve approached him with. Last night, when you came to him with the latest details on the new exhibit in the museum downtown, he’d said, “Sounds like something right up _your_ alley. I’m sure you can handle it just fine.”

Had he even heard you? It was a _museum,_ for Christ’s sake. Sam always goes on and on to you about historical facts and how much he prefers history books over movies. Naturally, your speculation rose. You plan on questioning him about it once more tonight.

Your regular spot to meet is on the steeple near Saint Francis’s Home for Boys. Tonight, upon catching the glimpse of his backpack by the gap in the belfry, it seems that he’d gotten there first. But when you arrive at the top, he is nowhere to be found.

You let out an amused huff. “Just come out, you asshole,” you call, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Laughter erupts from behind a near pillar, and there Sam steps out. “You know, you can be such a killjoy sometimes,” he says, pointing at you accusingly and moving closer to where you stand.

“Killjoy?” You scoff, raising a brow. “Sam, the last time I let that happen—”

“‘Let that happen?’ Pfft. You didn’t see me coming, Y/N…”

“Yeah, and I almost fell off the damn roof.”

He smiles smugly. “But I caught ya, didn’t I?” he points out, nudging your shoulder.

He’s always had a very contagious smile, so you have trouble trying not to return it. You move your hands to your hips and remember the purpose of tonight’s meet-up. “So, what are we doing here, hmm?”

Sam steps backwards, moving to take a seat by where his backpack sat, dangling his legs over the edge of the steeple. “Well, I thought I would ask for your help for a little quest of a sorts, and then we could just hang out.”

You slip your backpack from  your shoulders and take the seat next to him. “‘A little quest of a sorts,’” you echo. “I’m guessing this has nothing to do with the job I mentioned last night.”

He quirks his head to the side. “Yes and no,” he replies. He pauses to take a large preparatory breath, further rising your suspicion. “All right, I’ve been keeping this under wraps for a while now, and I know you’re probably gonna be pissed—”

You are suddenly very scared now. _“Sam.”_

“Just hear me out, okay?” he quickly says, holding his hands out and adjusting in his seat to face you. You comply, fending down a string of worried complaints. “I got this new job—no tip, no thieving, or anything. And it pays a lot more than my boss does now. The only catch is that I gotta be away for a year.”

A year. He’s going to be gone for a year, for a job he hadn’t bothered to mention to you sooner. You are prepared to speak up on behalf of your hurt, but you pause for a moment to stitch the pieces further together. He doesn’t need to mention exactly what is pushing him toward this well-paying job, because you know. Nate. 

You deadpan, sighing softly. “I’m not mad.”

He seems surprised, albeit relieved. “You’re not?”

“No, but I am pretty upset that you didn’t tell me sooner,” you say. He nods understandingly. “But besides that, I get it.”

“And that’s where I need your help.”

Just as you figured, he wants to make it up to Nate somehow. He tells you the added purpose of saving for that new bike of his. He goes on further about the private auction in which his father sold all of his mother’s journals and how he intends on tracking the buyer. 

“I know that it’s no museum tip or anything, but I figured that it’d be something. We haven’t really had that kind of fun in a while,” he says afterwards. 

You hum in agreement. “But you do know that it’d be a lot easier, right? We’re not really breaking into anything or stealing anything; we’re just going through files. We can easily say we’re doing research for a project or whatever.”

Sam playfully rolls his eyes at this. “Pick pick _pick,”_ he teases. “See? Killjoy.”

You laugh. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t be fun!” He raises his brows and turns away from you, at the view of the city the steeple offers. Your laughter dies down into a simple smile on your lips. The dark skies and the faint light in the distance make the hazel of his eyes appear green. It’s rare for you get the chance to just sit and look at him without getting poked fun at. 

You nudge him with your elbow. He meets your eyes again. “I gotta say, I miss spending time with you,” you admit softly. “Seems like we don’t get to do it that often anymore.”

He smiles. “Hey, that’s what for tonight’s for, right? Just you and me.”

“Yeesh. You make it sound like you’re leaving already,” you say, tapping the heels of your feet against the edge of the roof. Then you realize… “When are you leaving, anyway?”

He sucks in a large breath. “A week. Or two.”

“My god,” you groan.

“I know, I know,” he says. “Let’s just not talk about it, okay?”

You let out a light scoff. “Then what _do_ we talk about, huh?”

Sam shrugs. “Well, it shouldn’t be hard.” And it shouldn’t, because it’s _you and Sam_. “Like, ah… All right, get this: if you could start your first adventure out of town now, where would you go?”

You raise your brows at the question, but it’s no no-brainer. You’ve both discussed this topic many times before. Your childhood longings of adventure, exploring and seeing the world. You would hate to admit it to him, but his rambles about history and its lore and treasures has sparked further interest within you. A wide grin spreads across your lips. “El Dorado,” you answer.

Sam furrows his brows. “Sparin’ yourself the fun of actually finding the lost city?”

“It’s the lost city of _gold,_ Sam. I’d be jumping straight into the good part.”

He holds his hands up. “All right, all right…”

Soon enough, the two of you delve into a chat that is probably going to last you hours into the night. He tells you where he’d go first after minutes of struggle. You exchange tales of misbehaviour during your days in Saint Francis’s and Saint Lucy’s. He tells you a particularly funny one that occurred in one of his Bible retreats, which has you laughing for five minutes straight. 

After you’ve calmed, the topic of conversation seems to point downward. You start discussing your lives’ possibilities if neither of you ended up orphaned. You discuss your futures, if you didn’t have “adventure” as your whole map out onwards. If either of you would marry, have kids, live the life you’ve never truly fully imagined for yourselves…

It sparks a moment of silence between the two of you. You think about Sam, and how he is headed in a fairly straight direction. He is leaving his criminal activities behind in order to financially support his little brother. He’s getting a steady job, earning money, and by the time he returns, what then? Marriage? Kids?

From what he’s told you, he has mended his relationship with Crystal after the bump they hit a few months back. They’ve been together for almost half a year now. And despite the bad vibes you get from her the rare times you’re in the same room as her, she sure does seem to make him happy. And really, that’s all that matters.

“Hey,” you speak up eventually, nudging Sam gently. “You told Crystal about the job yet?”

His shoulders stiffen at the question. He turns to you, mouth pursed. “We actually, uh, broke up a week ago.”

There is a part of you that feels relieved at the information, but you ignore it nevertheless. “Wha— Again? What happened now?”

Sam sucks in a deep breath and stares on ahead. “It’s kinda complicated. She started suspecting that I had feelings for someone else, and I wanted to deny it, but I realized…”

“You _do_ have feelings for someone else,” you finish at the end when his voice falters.

He nods and turns to you. “Hell, I’m crazy for her,” he says, his voice much quieter, much more earnest. Your heartbeat increases when you take in the way he’s looking at you — like you’re the one he’s apparently “crazy for.”

You’d be lying to yourself if you claim you don’t feel anything that particular way for Sam. From day one, yes, you thought he was attractive. You like his hair. You like how tall he is. You think his eyes are pretty. And when he started to tell you about little Nate, and the love and care he has for him is always so evident and endearing. Then it was the little things: him wrapping an arm around your shoulders, even his hands just brushing yours. You can recall hating yourself for being so… _so…_

You pull yourself from your thoughts and clear your throat. “So who is this ‘someone else?’”

Sam chuckles lowly, moving closer to you and you’re surprised how quick you respond to his touch. “I think you know her,” he says, tangling his fingers in your hair.

You bite down on your bottom lip, fending down a goofy grin as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “Can’t say that I do,” you murmur, curling your fingers around the collar of his denim jacket.

“Okay.” He laughs once more just before you meet his lips midway.

It’s kind of a strange kiss. Sweet and chaste and smiley slowly transitioning to deep and hot and slow. When you pull away, you are nearly curled around him, one of his hands on your waist and the other near under the hem of your skirt and on your thigh. You are both flushed and breathing heavily, but you still let out a laugh and wrap your arms further around his neck, hugging him.

“This is gonna be one hell of a week,” you say against his shoulder.

“Or two,” he adds, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

The week or two that passes indeed becomes very interesting between Sam and you. Despite work and tracking down the buyer of his mother’s journals, you still manage to squeeze some time in for just the both of you. Or, “catching up on lost time,” so he calls it.

He tells you the night he breaks to Nathan the news of his new job that he’d swing by your place afterward. So you wait up for him that night in the shady apartment you moved into after the incident last year. Your roommates tend to be deep sleepers, so Sam’s late night visits often come unnoticed by them. 

The hours that pass have you worrying out of your mind. Something had definitely gone awry, for all you know. It is nearly three in the morning when the pebbles hit your window, and your suspicions are confirmed at the sight of Sam standing next to his bike, where Nate sits.

You climb down and Sam summarizes everything that had happened to the both of them. You are almost too stunned to find the right words, but it’s when he says the three words that you find clarity. “Come with us.”

It takes you a minute. It takes a glance at your bike parked at the corner, at Nate over Sam’s shoulder, and finally a final stare at Sam. “Okay,” you say.

When the three of you are driving down the freeway, it all begins to sink in. “This is where it starts,” Sam had told you. The start of a long road ahead with the Morgan— no, _Drake_ brothers.

And boy, it turns out to be one hell of a road indeed.


End file.
